


Snapshots

by happygoplucky (ironmanisalive)



Category: Queen (Band)
Genre: Child Abuse, Hurt Roger Taylor (Queen), Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Multi, Protective winter, Sad Roger Taylor (Queen), Winter is a good friend
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-01
Updated: 2020-07-01
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:06:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25012876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ironmanisalive/pseuds/happygoplucky
Summary: By the time he was thirteen-years-old, Roger Meddows Taylor knew how to set his own broken nose. He knew how to cover bruises with makeup that he nicked from his mum. He also knew how to put on an act of wellness that no one could see through—no one except Innsbruck Avery Sheehan. Winter could always tell when Roger was pretending.
Relationships: Roger Taylor & Winter Sheehan, Roger Taylor/Winter Sheehan
Kudos: 8





	Snapshots

**Author's Note:**

> This is based off of 'Stages' by BrooklynBugleBoy. It was originally going to be a series, but the original work was deleted so I kind of lost inspiration, so it's a oneshot now.  
> Reposted because I pulled a dummy move and deleted it a few months ago.

By the time he was thirteen-years-old, Roger  Meddows Taylor knew how to set his own broken nose. He knew how to cover bruises with makeup that he nicked from his mum. He also knew how to put on an act of wellness that no one could see through—no one except Innsbruck Avery Sheehan. Winter could always tell when Roger was pretending. 

When the boys were fifteen, Roger’s dad had given him a harsher beating than the usual. The blond had a concussion; he could tell by the foggy feeling in his brain. He also had several broken ribs; he could feel them move as he breathed. He went to school, though. He went because his dad was home nursing a hangover with a bottle of whiskey and Roger didn’t want more trouble. 

“What’s up, Speed-Racer?” Was the first thing that Roger heard when he lumbered through the door of the school. 

He didn’t respond. He couldn’t. 

“Rog, are you alright?” 

Pale fingers were grabbing at his face. Glassy eyes followed the white wrist up to meet concerned pinky blue ones. 

“I like your eyes,” he slurred out before slumping with a wince into Winter’s arms. 

“’Kay that’s it, mate, I’m taking you to the nurse.” 

“No, Win, I don’t  wanna ...” 

Roger put up as much of a fight as he could, but he was no match for the strong athlete. Winter dragged his friend into the nurse’s office and plopped him rather unceremoniously into a chair. The nurse immediately swooped on Roger with a too-bright penlight and a too-loud voice that was asking Winter too many questions. 

“What happened to him?” 

“He, uh, he...rugby.” 

“Is that right?” 

“Of course. Only he’s  real bad at rugby, so he usually gets a bit toughed up.” 

"Are you lying to  me, young man?" 

"Of course not, ma'am. I'm offended that you'd even think I'd  _ lie _ to an adult like yourself." 

The woman still looked skeptical, but she refrained from asking more questions. 

“He’s got a concussion and sounds like he’s got broken ribs, the poor lamb. I’m going to phone his parents to come pick him up and take him to a proper doctor—” 

“NO!” Winter’s cry was loud enough to shock the injured blond into looking at him. “I-I mean...his mum is working and she can’t leave.” 

“What about his father?” 

“He’s drunk off his ass by now.” Roger was staring at the wall, swaying. He spoke so quietly that he almost wasn’t heard. 

The nurse looked at Roger with pity before turning to Winter. “I’m going to phone  _ your _ mother, Mr. Sheehan. I’m sure she can look after Mr. Taylor until his mother’s shift ends.” 

Winter nodded and sat down next to Roger as the nurse left. 

“Mum can take us to the hospital where your mum works.” 

The concussed boy nodded and the rest of the time spent waiting for Mrs. Sheehan passed in silence. When she arrived, she helped Winter support Roger as they walked to her car. He fell asleep on Winter’s shoulder in the backseat on the way to the hospital. 

Mrs. Sheehan parked her car right at the doors and helped a semiconscious Roger inside. 

Mrs. Taylor was there right away. She helped her son into a room and thanked the Sheehan's. 

*** 

Winifred Taylor was no-nonsense type of woman. She sat her son down and called for the doctor before crouching down to look at the bruised face before her. 

“Did you tell them what happened?” 

“Win told the nurse I was playing rugby.” 

“Good lad. I’m sorry I wasn’t there to help you last night.” 

“Better me than you, Mum. Or Clarie.” 

“It would be best if it was none of us.” 

The doctor walked in before Roger could say anything else. 

Roger learned that he had a concussion, three broken ribs, and two more bruised ribs. He got a prescription for some minor painkillers and an order to stop playing rugby for a while (“It’s not your sport, son”) before being sent on his way. Winifred was given permission to leave early so she could be with her boy. 

Winter decided to go home with them, in case Mr. Taylor wanted to try something. He was in shock about how bad a shape Roger was in. He’d never been this bad and Winter was worried it would happen again. 

The two fifteen-year-olds went straight upstairs to Roger’s room. Roger was asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow—which was Winter’s chest in this instance. Win was exhausted after the day he’d had, but he wasn’t going to leave his boy defenseless. He kept himself awake by drawing patterns into Roger’s back with his pale fingers. He’d sleep when Roger was safe. 

*** 

The next morning, the house was woken up by shouting. Roger wanted to go to school and Winter wasn’t having any of it. The two boys argued (quite loudly) and neither would back down. After about five minutes of screaming, Winifred appeared in the doorway. 

"Can one of you boys please explain why you're shouting at 7 in the morning?" 

"Sorry, Miss Winnie, but Roger thinks he's well enough to go to school today and  I disagree. " Winter glared at Roger. 

"Mum, I'm fine. I'm p-perfectly well and I can go to school." 

"Did you hear yourself stutter? Because that's not normal!" 

"Shut up, Win. I'm FINE!" 

"Roger," Winifred interrupted the conversation before it escalated further. "You're not going to school today. Winter is right--you're not well and going to school with your concussion will only make you feel worse." 

Roger's blue eyes brightened with tears. "I can't stay here, Mum. Not while  he's here, too. I don't want to be alone with him." 

Winter and Winifred both felt their hearts drop a little when Roger spoke. There was a brief moment of silence. They were all trying to think of a safe place for Roger to go.

“Miss Winnie, what if he came to my house? My mum will be there and she’ll make sure that Roger is okay and safe.” 

“That sounds like a great idea. Roger?” 

The young drummer nodded in agreement and fell back so he was sitting on the bed, immediately looking much worse than he had minutes previously. Winter slung an arm around his boy and helped him into Winifred’s car after a brief call home to make sure the plans were good. 

Mrs. Sheehan was perfectly okay with helping Roger out. She had a basic idea of what went on in the Taylor household and she was more than happy to let the wounded boy stay in her home. She even agreed to let Winter skive off school to stay with him, just for the day. 

The two boys spent the day on the sofa, leaning on each other and watching  Eastenders reruns. They both fell asleep around noon and slept until dinner. Roger stayed the night and was granted permission to return to school the next day. 

*** 

One year after Winter passed away, Mrs. Sheehan gave Roger a photo album that she’d put together. The book was filled with pictures of the two boys in various stages of life. One photo was of Roger and Winter asleep on the sofa with the  Eastenders logo on the  telly next to them. Roger didn’t remember much of that day, but he did remember waking up to a snoring Winter drooling on his shoulder. He’d never felt safer.


End file.
